In the kitchen Sally spoke without prelude.  “What deviltry are you up to now, Steve?”

“Me?” he repeated with eyes widened by innocence.  “What d’you mean, Sally?”

“Don’t four-flush me, Steve.”

“Is eating in your place deviltry?”

“Am I blind?” she answered hotly.  “Have I got spring-halt, maybe?  You’re too polite, Steve; I can always tell when you’re on the way to a little bell of your own making, by the way you get sort of kind and warmed up.  What is it now?”

“Kiss me, Sally, and I’ll tell you why I came to town.”

She said with a touch of colour:  “I’ll see you—­” and then changing quickly, she slipped inside his ready arms with a smile and tilted up her face.

“Now what is it, Steve?”

“This,” he answered.

“What d’you mean?”

“You know me, Sally.  I’ve worn out the other ways of raising hell, so I thought I’d start a little by coming to Eldara to kiss you.”

Her open hand cracked sharply twice on his lean face and she was out of his arms.  He followed, laughing, but she armed herself with a red-hot frying pan and defied him.

“You ain’t even a good sport, Steve.  I’m done with you!  Kiss you?”

He said calmly:  “I see the hell is startin’, all right.”

But she changed at once, and smiled up to him.

“I can’t stay mad at you, Steve.  I s’pose it’s because of your nerve.  I want you to do something for me.”

“What?”

“Is that a way to take it!  I’ve asked you a favour, Steve.”

He said suspiciously:  “It’s got something to do with the tenderfoot in the room out there?”

It was a palpable hit, for she coloured sharply.  Then she took the bull by the horns.

“What if it is?”

“Sally, d’you mean to say you’ve fallen for that cheap line of lingo he passes out?”

“Steve, don’t try to kid me.”

“Why, you know who he is, don’t you?”

“Sure; Anthony Bard.”

“And do you know who Anthony Bard is?”

“Well?” she asked with some anxiety.

“Well, if you don’t know you can find out.  That’s what the last girl done.”

She wavered, and then blinked her eyes as if she were resolved to shut out the truth.

“I asked you to do me a favour, Steve.”

“And I will.  You know that.”

“I want you to see that Bard gets safe out of this town.”

“Sure.  Nothing I’d rather do.”

She tilted her head a little to one side and regarded him wistfully.

“Are you double-crossin’ me, Steve?”

“Why d’you suspect me?  Haven’t I said I’d do it?”

“But you said it too easy.”

The gentleness died in her face.  She said sternly:  “If you do double-cross me, you’ll find I’m about as hard as any man on the range.  Get me?”

“Shake.”

Their hands met.  After all, he did not guarantee what would happen to the tenderfoot after they were clear of the town.  But perhaps this was a distinction a little too fine for the downright mind of the girl.  A sea of troubles besieged the mind of Nash.